Best Laid Plans III  The Goblet Of Truth
by Ticklefish
Summary: <html><head></head>If there's one thing that Chris Redfield hates, it's a mystery. Such a shame that he's going to have a lot more to contend with before it's all over... JillxChris, possible ClairexLeon, rated M for sexual content. Work in progress, please R&R.</html>
1. Chapter 1

Best Laid Plans III - The Goblet Of Truth

by Ticklefish

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><p>FOREWORD: I started writing fanfics with this story and now I can finally finish it off. This is the third and final part of Best Laid Plans and I do hope you enjoy it.<br>It's still a work in progress, so let me know what you think!

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><p>"This is insane.." muttered Chris.<p>

He squinted into the mirror, trying to find a clean patch of glass. With none available, he settled on the least dirty section and, raising a razor to his face, tried once again to shave without cutting his face to ribbons.

The faint sound of music drifted through the room's door. Technically, it was a bathroom but the bath looked as though it hadn't been cleaned for years. Chris reflected that it was probably the only bath in existence that would actually make a person dirtier. He let out a low chuckle which was suddenly cut short.

He stared glumly at his reflection.

That was the fourth time he'd cut himself so far.

It was beginning to get a little tiresome.


	2. Chapter 2

Best Laid Plans III - The Goblet Of Truth

by Ticklefish

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><p>In another bathroom in another country, Chris's sister, Claire Redfield, sat in a shower cubicle.<p>

The water was on full and rained down upon her head and down her back. Claire's hair had been brushed in front of her face and, slick with water, effectively blocked off sight of everything but the plughole between her feet.

It was a habit she had kept ever since her childhood. For a time she could almost convince herself that the outside world didn't exist. When she was growing up, there were times she desperately prayed for the world to just disappear. Now she was older, she had gotten a better grip on things but there were still times that she just needed to separate herself from everything.

It had been two days since Claire and a man called Leon had rented the motel room. Despite the large bed, and its coin-operated vibrating feature, the room had been used as nothing more than a makeshift base for their investigation, which didn't best please Claire. Leon was Leon Kennedy, a special agent reporting directly to the President and a man she had dealt with before. Claire had recently signed up with the Bioterroism Security Assessment Alliance and was helping him investigate an unusual kidnapping.

Actually, Claire thought, that probably wasn't true anymore. The BSAA hadn't authorized her to do any such investigating and didn't even know where she was. She hadn't heard from them, but it was only a matter of time before they decided to fire her for going AWOL. Her brother was one of the most senior agents with the organization and could get away with anything but his sister had no such leeway.  
>Still, it was worth it. Claire had a personal connection with the kidnappee and almost had a personal connection with Leon.<p>

She sighed.

Almost had a personal connection. Almost, but not quite. She wanted him, more and more with every moment they spent together, but Leon seemed to be completely oblivious. His entire attitude was coldly professional and Claire had come so close to writing him off completely a dozen times. But a dozen times something about him made her want to persevere.

It was driving her to distraction.

But that wasn't why she was hiding in the shower.

The girl who was kidnapped was Sherry Birkin, the daughter of two prominent scientists with the Umbrella Corporation. The corporation was long since gone, her parents with it, but Leon felt that Sherry's disappearance had something to do with it. The BSAA was too official so he'd turned to Claire. Before joining the BSAA, she had worked with Terra Save. Terra Save was a group with similar interests to the BSAA but they were more maverick, more underground, more willing to ignore the rules to do what they needed. Leon felt that because of this, they might know something and wanted her to get in touch again.

But there was a catch.

There was a reason why Claire left Terra Save. And there was a reason why she really didn't want to talk to them again. Which was why she was sitting in the shower, with her hair hiding her away from the world. Sooner or later, she would have to get up and face things. But while the water was still hot, here she would stay.


	3. Chapter 3

Best Laid Plans III - The Goblet Of Truth

by Ticklefish

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><p>Jill Valentine sat at the small, motel room table. A small pad of paper rested in front of her, taunting her with its blank sheets. It had been fifteen minutes since she had decided to try to get her thoughts in order and all she had managed so far was to add some more teeth marks to the pencil.<p>

It was hard to say exactly what was causing her mental block. A lot had happened over the last few days and a lot of it hadn't been good.

A faint purring noise came from the bed. Jill raised her eyes and gazed at one of the more noticeable happenings. Sitting on the bed, clutching a carton of juice and focused intensely on the small television set, was a seven-foot tall, hideously mutated bioweapon.

His name was Nemesis and he had been designed from the ground up to kill anybody his masters wanted without hesitation, without fear and without a trace of mercy. As Jill watched, the creature smiled as widely as he could and let out another purring giggle.

It was early on Saturday morning and Nemesis was watching his third consecutive hour of cartoons. The animated mouse had just hit the animated cat with an animated frying-pan. Despite having seen variants on the same thing all morning, Nemesis still seemed to find it incredibly funny.

It was strange, thought Jill. Nemesis was the second being of his type she had encountered. The first one had done its utmost to kill her and had very nearly succeeded. The Nemesis sitting on the bed, however, was a reject. It had all the physical qualities of its predecessor but was terrified by violence.

Terrified to the point of insensibility.

And yet, he was perfectly happy to watch hour after hour of cartoon violence. That could possibly suggest something in-depth about the nature of the human, or inhuman, psyche but Jill was too tired to think about it.

On an impulse, she reached out and wrote "NEMESIS" in flowing capitals on the pad.

Nemesis was the product of the Umbrella Corporation, a pharmaceutical company with a side-line in bio-organic warfare. Umbrella had long since been dismantled but its legacy was taking a while to go with it.

"UMBRELLA CORP" was added to the paper.

The sound of running water came from the bathroom for a few seconds then stopped. Jill listened for a few seconds but there was nothing more to hear.

The man in the bathroom was Chris Redfield. Chris was many things to Jill. They had been partners for over ten years and more recently had become lovers.

She moved to write "CHRIS" but changed her mind at the last minute. Chris was a whole other pile of thoughts and emotions and she couldn't think clearly while he was on her mind. Jill and Chr...the man in the bathroom had found Nemesis while investigating an outbreak of the T-Virus, one of Umbrella's most notorious creations.

"T-VIRUS" went on the pad swiftly followed by "UNENDING SHOT", signifying a mysterious weapon found in an Umbrella building during their investigation.

"BSAA", the anti-bioterrosism unit Jill and Chris belonged to which had recently added them to its "Most Wanted Criminal" list was next.

"CLAIRE" and "SHEVA" were written next to each other. Both had been involved with the investigation and both had subsequently vanished.

Jill added a few more words to the pad then sat back in the chair and resumed chewing the pencil. Without realizing it, she had left a blank space in the middle. There was really only one thing that could fill it.

She leaned forward and, moving carefully, wrote "HERMITS CLUB" and drew a circle around it. No-one seemed to know who the Club were or what they did but they owned the building that had been filled with the virus. They owned the building that Nemesis was found in, hiding from the massacre of the research staff who had worked on him. The Club's logo had also been found on the Unending Shot, a weapon which couldn't possibly exist.

Jill stared at the pad, hoping to make sense of it. The Hermit Club were connected to most of the things she had written down.

Perhaps they were connected to everything, she wondered. There might have been a mole inside the BSAA.

It was doubtful, she and Chris had been two of the founding members and the group prided itself on its integrity. But, she reflected, it had been a while since they had passed over control. A lot could have changed over the years.

If the Club were involved with everything on her pad, that would also suggest that the disappearance of Claire and Sheva was their responsibility as well. Jill hoped not, Claire was naive and inexperienced but she liked the girl.

As for Sheva, well, Jill had always wondered just how close she and Chris had become. Sheva wasn't exactly Jill's favorite person but she didn't actually wish her any harm.

And so far, everyone who had had any connection with the Hermit Club had wound up doing the same thing.

They had all died.


	4. Chapter 4

Best Laid Plans III - The Goblet Of Truth

by Ticklefish

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><p>The man walked up the short path to his front door. Like all the houses in this neighborhood, the path cut the front yard into two small, equal sections. With all the other houses, this yard was always filled with neat, orderly plants and flowers. There was the occasional statue or sundial as well. This was a neighborhood where people looked after their gardens and tended them carefully.<p>

Not with this house though. As the man walked along the path, the areas to the left and right of it were nothing but solid concrete. Gardens were an unneeded distraction. This man had a mission. No gardener he, this man was a crusader.

For many years he had fought without any concern for his own well-being. These days he walked with the aid of a cane and could only see out of his left eye, but he walked with his head held high. He had sacrificed much but it had all been for a good cause.

The man walked into his house and shrugged off his coat. Hanging it on a peg, he limped into the lounge. It was late at night and pitch black, but he had long committed the exact layout of his house to memory so he walked with confidence to an armchair, sat down and pulled out a small revolver. He pointed it into the shadows and pulled back the hammer.

"You have five seconds to tell me what you're doing here before I blow your head off." he said in a cold, level tone.

"You haven't changed one bit, Sven, you're still just as distrustful as ever."

The gun stayed exactly where it was. Sven's eyes narrowed.

"It's not me who changed. I'm not the one who sold out."

"I..oh, for pity's sake, put the gun away, will you? I came here to talk not to fight."

Sven paused and then slowly eased the hammer back and returned the weapon to his pocket.

There was a soft click and the room was bathed in gentle light. Sitting casually on a couch on the other side of the room was a woman dressed in dark clothing, a small lamp on the table next to her. Sven was pleased to note that his aim, as always, had been absolutely perfect. If he had pulled the trigger, the woman's head would have vanished. He leant back and smiled.

"So, can't you afford decent threads on a sell-out's salary?"

The woman scowled.

"Don't call me that. I didn't sell out."

"What else should I call you, Claire?" he replied, "You walked out on us and went straight over to the man. Gave yourself to the enemy."

Claire had no intention of being drawn into this old argument again but there was something about the man that just needled away at her.

"The enemy?" she exclaimed, "They're on the same side as us. They want the same things. They just have better...what?"

Sven's smile had evolved into a wide grin.

"'They'? 'Us'? I'm guessing you haven't totally bought into their brainwashing then. There's still hope for you yet."

"Brainwashing? How the hell can you..there's no brainwashing anywhere in the BSAA. At all! For God's sake Sven, my brother helped start the damned thing. My actual brother and he.."

"Your brother's a blind tool," Sven cut in, "he's a tool of the man. He's just too stupid to realize how he's being manipulated. You're smarter than him. At least I thought you were. Until you left, that is."

Claire realized that, once again, she was being pulled into Sven's world. If she let him, he would drag her down and she'd never escape again. She took a deep breath and held it, silently counting to ten.

1. 2. 3..

The man continued talking.

"You left but maybe you've come back. Maybe I'm being harsh, maybe you've seen the light and you've come back to us."

6. 7. 8..

"We could do with you back, Claire. I could do with you back. Claire?"

9. 10.

Claire realized her breath in a slow hiss through her teeth. The pause had worked. She felt more in control of herself and it looked as though Sven had calmed down a little too. That wouldn't last. Not with what she had to tell him.

"I'm not coming back, Sven. That's not what I'm here for."

"No? That's a pity. We were very good together."

Claire shook her head.

"Sven...I came because I need your help."

The man in the chair opened his mouth to say something but closed it without making a single sound. He placed his hands on the chair's arms and, with a grunt, levered himself up to a standing position. Using his cane to steady him, he walked to a small, brown cabinet in the corner of the room.

"Sven, I didn't want to come here. I didn't want to open up old wounds."

There was a faint clinking noise and the sound of running fluids. Sven looked back over his shoulder.

"Want one?" he said, waving a short glass containing something glistening.

"No thanks, I don't drink anymore." Claire winced at the lie and wondered why she said it.

Sven turned to face her.

"No?" he asked, "You surprise me. I remember a woman who could drink anybody under the table. Even me. "

He grinned.

"Of course, sometimes I let you.."

"I've changed a lot."

"I'm sure."

Sven started back across the room. He got about halfway to the chair before he tripped. Maybe his cane got in the way, maybe he had misjudged the shadows, Claire wasn't sure. One moment he was fine, the next he was sprawled across the rug, the brandy soaking into the fibers.

She dashed to his aid and had gotten a hand under his arm to help him up before he angrily shook her off.

"Get off me! I'm fine, I'm fine!"

Claire took a step back, ready to move forward if she was needed but Sven managed to get himself back to his armchair. He didn't sit in it, preferring instead to sit on the floor with his back against the chair. As he got his breath back, Claire noticed in puzzlement that he had managed to keep hold of his glass the whole time.

"Are you okay? I thought you knew this house inside and out."

"I do," Sven gasped, "I do, it's just, it's, it's you. You're distracting me, I can't.."

He swallowed and tried to regain his usual cool demeanor.

"What do you want, Claire? Huh? Just what..do..you..want?"

"Sherry Birkin." she replied, squatting on the floor in front of him.

"The Devil's daughter, eh?" Sven sniggered, "And just what do you want from her?"

"I want to find her, make sure she's safe and I want you to help me."

There was a long pause. Sven's face was inscrutable but his gaze was intense.

"I don't see how I can," he said eventually, "there's no way I can get you into that fortress the fed's have got her in. You know how long we've been trying to get in there."

Claire scratched her chin with her thumb, her mind racing. She suspected, no, she knew, that Sven knew more than he was saying. She had no way of telling how much he knew about what she knew. With a man like Sven, you were wise to play your hands extremely close to your chest. Sven never gave away more than he wanted. Although he also never tripped in his own house..

While Claire was busy thinking, her mouth decided to take the initiative.

"She's been kidnapped." she said, "The federal agents are all dead."

Claire had known Sven for a long time. In all those years, he always had an answer for everything. He was always prepared for every occasion. The look of surprise on his face was so strange that she almost didn't realize it for what it was.

"They're dead?" he exclaimed, "But she told me she wouldn't.."

Claire leaned closer, a frown forming on her face.

"What aren't you telling me, Sven? Who are you talking about?"

Sven raised his glass to his lips to take a drink, realized it was empty and looked lost for a few seconds. He looked down at the floor, his eyes focusing on something unknown.

"It was a while back. This woman came to me one day and said she needed Terra Save's help with something."

"Who was she?" Claire asked but the man didn't appear to hear.

"It was after you left. She reminded me of you somehow. I was missing you and..well..that's probably why I wasn't more suspicious. I never even thought to ask how she found me."

"who was she, Sven?" Claire repeated.

"Heh. She even had the same taste in motorbikes. Maybe I thought that she and I would..oh, it doesn't matter."

Sven drew in a deep breath and looked Claire in the eye.

"She wanted to know how to free Sherry Birkin," he continued, "I gave her all the information I had. I told her what we know about the layout, patrol patterns, CCTV placements. Everything."

There was only thing Claire could think of to say.

"Why?"

Sven sighed.

"I don't know, I really don't. She said she was going to free the girl and bring her to us. She said she was going to sneak in and absolutely not hurt anyone. She said she was trying to prevent violence not cause it. In those words. Those exact words, I remember it perfectly."

He looked again at his glass as if hoping to find an answer.

"I killed those people," he said in a cold, dead voice, "I always swore that we would do everything possible to save lives and I helped somebody.."

Despite herself, Claire couldn't help but try to save Sven's feelings. Deep down, past all the bluster and bravado, she knew that Sven was essentially a man of peace. It was one of the aspects of him that had attracted her in the first place.

"We don't know who's responsible. It could have been anybody." he said, hoping Sven wouldn't notice how trite it sounded.

Sven continued to stare at the glass and said nothing.

"Who was she?" Claire said quietly. "Did she give you a name?"

For a moment it seemed like Sven wouldn't say anything but then he sighed and, in a low voice, muttered "Elza Walker. Her name was Elza Walker."

And with that, a small, neat bullet hole appeared in the middle of his forehead and his lifeless body toppled softly sideways to the floor.


	5. Chapter 5

Best Laid Plans III - The Goblet Of Truth

by Ticklefish

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><p>It started with music.<p>

It always did.

The music was different every time. A different DJ, a different station, jazz, rock, hip-hop..but always music. She could never understand why. It wasn't for her or her colleagues for if they were listening to it they weren't listening to their directions. It wasn't for the crew, they were too focused on their job. And it wasn't for the cameraman ,he could only hear the voices echoing around his head. It was as if the music was a sacrifice to ancient gods. Hear this, it seemed to be saying, and look favorably down upon our little endeavor.

It was, perhaps, over-glamorizing it a little, but in this industry you took your glamour where you could find it.

"That's fantastic, babes. Now turn around, bend over and show the readers the goods."

Moving slowly, Sheva turned her back to the cameraman, bent over with her legs straight and slightly apart and, with a slight, inaudible sigh, slid her hands down her legs to touch her toes. There were a series of quiet, mechanical sounds as the cameraman, mid-thirties and wearing a baseball cap that didn't suit him, zoomed in and took photograph after photograph of Sheva's bottom.

There had been some heated discussion about this in the dressing room earlier. The cameraman had a very definite vision in his head and wanted Sheva to wear a thong that left nothing to the imagination. She, on the other hand, wanted to wear something frilly for precisely the opposite reason. In Sheva's opinion, it wasn't what you could see but what you couldn't that was more erotic. She lost that argument, which was why she was now wearing something more akin to dental floss than clothing.

"How's that?" she said, feeling slightly dizzy from the blood rushing to her head.

"Fantastic," came the response, "bloody fantastic. Now pull 'em to one side and let's see what's there."

She hesitated for a second and then complied, suppressing a shiver as a waft of cold air picked the wrong moment to blow across her exposed flesh.

It wasn't always like this. Not that long ago, the only time she was naked was when she was in the bath. And even that was with the door closed, despite her living on her own. But things change. A year ago, she would have blushed if somebody had looked at her cleavage. Actually...that wasn't true. If somebody had done that, she wouldn't have hesitated to kick them between their legs.

If they were lucky.

But now, now she had spent so much time naked in front of a camera she almost felt she was being to forget what clothes were.

It had started with simple stuff. Pictures mainly. A bit of makeup, a new hairdo and a nice outfit. As the months went by, the clothes got smaller and the pictures got nastier. Not every photo session or video was that explicit to be fair. Yesterday she had done a lingerie shoot for a French tabloid. The photographer was very polite and went to incredible lengths to avoid photographing more than he needed to. Her mind drifted to the significantly large piece of plastic resting on the bed behind her. This wasn't going to be one of those artistic type of shoots.

"Right, we've got that. Take your bra off and sit on the edge of the bed and let's get to business."

Strangely, this guy, whatever his name was, was actually more polite than a lot of people Sheva had worked with. People who worked in erotic art, she hated the word 'porn', seemed to very quickly become very blas about the whole thing. It was even happening to her too, although she tried to fight it. The first time she had sex with another woman, which had been for a local film-maker, she was completely blown away and struggled to get her head round it. Now, she took it for granted.

The photographer was right. At the end of the day, this was a business. This was her job and a well-paying one too.

She removed her bra and perched on the bed, feeling the rough covers against her buttocks. A woman dressed all in black knelt in front of her and, after motioning Sheva to spread her legs, carefully sprayed a fine mist of water over her labia. The woman backed away and the photographer resumed his direction. A thin line of water trickled its way down her, making her bite her lip. The water was cold but not too cold to be doing all kinds of things to her.

A few minutes and a few more poses later, the photographer commanded Sheva to reach for the toy. She had tried to keep her mind calm but the photographer knew his work too well and by this point Sheva no longer needed a spray of water to appear aroused. The toy was thick, they always were, but it went in all too easily..

The music continued..

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><p>"There we go. That's one, two and three hundred Ecoi."<p>

"That's fantastic, thank you."

"Thanks for coming. We'll be in touch."

She took the envelope, glanced at its contents and made her way out of the building. The skies were cloudy and the air was thick and still. She paused at the door, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. If there's not a storm tonight, thought Sheva, I'll be very surprised.

"Well, well! Alomar the porn star."

Her eyes snapped open. In front of her stood Josh Stone. For a second, she was too stunned to think what to say. He was the last person she was expecting to see. Josh, her colleague from BSAA, the man who first trained her. Now a man standing on a street in Johannesburg with his arms folded and an expression like thunder on his face.

"Josh. Er. Hi."

Inspired, she thought. She was happy to see him, if more than a little taken aback but he seemed to be anything but.

"Sheva. You're looking well. Keeping busy?"

There was only one thing he could mean by that. Sheva's new pastime hadn't gone unnoticed by her superiors. She had been suspended and could well lose her job. Not that she was sure she wanted to go back anyway. She had no idea what Josh thought of the whole situation. Josh was almost like her older brother and his opinion meant a lot to her.

"Oh, you know me," she said evasively, "I don't like to sit around. I always like to be doing something."

"Right." replied Josh.

For a few heartbeats, the two stood looking at each other. Neither knowing what to say or what to do.

"Actually," said Josh, "I'm not sure I do know you. The Sheva I thought I knew wouldn't been seen dead doing this...this..this stuff. She had better respect for herself."

"Oh, really? How dare you?" spat Sheva.

"How dare I? How dare I! How the hell dare you is the question! What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Sheva could feel the headache from that morning returning and started to get even more annoyed.

"I'm doing what I feel like! No-one's bossing me around, I'm having fun and I get to do exactly what I want to do. You can't handle it because you still think of me as that little girl you took into training."

"I've never thought of you as.." Joss began.

Sheva interrupted him with a curt wave of her hand.

"I get treated with dignity and respect. These people like me, they like seeing me. They think of me as a woman, dammit, which is something you.."

She stopped, confused. She had intended to say something different but, on the way to her mouth, the words changed of her own accord and she wasn't at all sure that she liked the way they were going. For his part, Josh looked a little taken aback as if he hadn't been expecting her to fight back.

Well what do you expect, thought Sheva, you're the one who taught me to stand up for myself.

"What about the BSAA?" asked Josh, "Don't you care about them?"

"Of course I do, Josh. You know I do. But, at the end of the day, this is who I am now. If they can't take it, if they don't want me back, then I don't want to work for them. It's that simple."

"What the hell are you talking about? It's not like you've changed your religion! You're doing smut, for God's sake!"

Sheva fumed.

"You know what? I thought I cared about what you thought but I don't. It's clear you've already made your mind up about me. And I just don't see the point in talking to you."

She turned away to go and Josh took her by the arm.

"Sheva, wait. Please? It was hard work finding you."

She didn't leave but she didn't turn to face him.

"Well?" she said and heard him sigh.

"Look...I'm sorry, okay? It's just you took us all by surprise, y'know? And you just disappeared and you didn't tell anybody, you didn't tell me where you'd gone. I was worried about you. I still am."

She turned round and smiled at the concerned look on his face.

"You don't need to be worried about me. I can take care of myself."

"I know," Josh replied with a shrug, "I do though. Can't help it."

Sheva laughed.

"Look...do you want to get a coffee or something? I won't give you details, but if we're going to continue fighting, I could do with sitting down. It's been a busy few hours."

Josh took off his cap and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Sure, why not? But better make it a beer. I think I'm going to need it."


	6. Chapter 6

Best Laid Plans III - The Goblet Of Truth

by Ticklefish

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><p>"Danke."<p>

Jill took the tickets from the man behind the kiosk and strolled down the platform. At the far end, hiding as deep under the shadows as he could, Jill could see the figure of Chris and a bigger, darker shape that could only be Nemesis. Chris looked uncomfortable. He was trying to look nonchalant and relaxed but Jill knew him too well. The flexing of his fingers wasn't a sign of a man fighting boredom but a man wishing he had a gun in his hand.

Making sure he could see her, she walked slowly and paused at every sign and advert, taking her time to read every word and contemplate every slogan. Chris was not a patient man at the best of times and she knew full well how he would be reacting to her actions.

As she passed the last advert, she frowned and turned back to it as if to read it a second time. The ad was for a particular brand of wood preservative, but Chris wasn't to know that. Jill's eyes wandered over the unlikely endorsements from previous consumers and she fought hard to keep a grin from her face.

Finally, she could leave it no longer and walked back to the men. Chris was practically hopping up and down with barely-contained frustration and it became even harder to stop from smiling. Nemesis was engrossed in a German comic book. He couldn't possibly understand what the characters were saying but it didn't seem to matter. It was easily the tenth time he'd read it but each time he treated it as something new.

"Hello, boys." Jill said. "Everything okay?"

"Oh yes," snapped Chris, "nothing I like more than standing around in the open like an idiot. When the hell's our train due?"

"Oh, not for a few minutes yet. You need to learn to relax more, Chris. You're going to turn gray early at this rate."

Chris snorted with annoyance.

"Right. And how precisely am I meant to relax? I keep telling you, we're far too exposed here. If things turn nasty, we're sitting ducks."

"Oh, I don't know." said Jill with a smile. "We do have Nemesis with us. He'll protect us, won't you boy?"

Nemesis looked up from his reading and treated Jill to a wide smile. They had done their best to disguise him but there was only so much wide-brimmed hats and long trench coats could do. When he had been designed, looks weren't high on the agenda. His face was twisted and scarred with only one eye but there was no trace of malice in his smile. It was pure and honest.

"I think that might just cause more problems, don't you? You know, it would be a lot easier if he wasn't with us."

"Don't even say that!" glowered Jill. "He's a victim and it's our duty to look after people like him. What kind of people would we be if we just let him rot?"

Chris held his hands up in surrender.

"Hey, okay, okay. I give, I give. I didn't say he shouldn't be with us, just that it's going to make things trickier, that's all. I mean, I want to protect him as much as you but you have to admit he draws attention."

"Well, we'll just have to deal with it, won't we?"

With that, Jill turned away from Chris and folded her arms.

For a few minutes, neither person said anything. The only sound was that of pages being turned, faint giggles from Nemesis and the sound of children playing on the opposite platform. The platform Chris and Jill were on was empty, save for them selves and a man in a suit at the far end. The man in the suit was sitting on a bench, slowly eating a pre-packaged sandwich.

An announcement came over the station tannoy. The voice was speaking German and Chris couldn't understand a word. The man in the suit placed the remains of his meal into a trashcan and walked to the front of the platform. The rails started to sing, heralding a new arrival.

"Is that our train?" he asked.

"No."

"When's our train coming?".

"Soon."

"How soon?"

"Soon."

"How soon is soon?"

"Soon."

Chris growled under his breath. What he wanted to do is let his temper free and start shouting but he knew he couldn't. It was of paramount importance that they kept a low profile. They needed to complete their journey without anybody taking the slightest bit of notice of them. That, and he just couldn't shout at Jill. He couldn't. The times they had shared since discovering their love for each other were too precious to ruin with arguments.

His mind drifted, his temper forgotten for the moment. Only a few days ago, they had been staying in a hotel room, pretending to be honeymooners. It had been a cover to hide their investigation but it had almost been real, their passion for each other had been so intense. Not one minute they had spent in that room had been spent without them kissing each other or holding each other or making love to each other or just staring into each other's eyes..

With a jerk, Chris's eyes refocused on the woman in front of him. Whatever anger he had been feeling had vanished, replaced by an emotion every bit as powerful.

"Jill, look. I'm sorry. I'm being a jerk. This whole situation is just getting to me, I guess. I didn't mean to get angry and I certainly didn't mean to upset you. Forgive me?"

"You didn't upset me." Jill said, turning back to face him.

Her eyes sparkled and Chris felt terrible. He spread his arms wide and drew her into a hug. She reached round under his jacket and held him close.

"You still didn't upset me." she said, her voice slightly muffled.

"I know, I know." Chris replied and kissed the top of her head.

A train arrived at the station, the man in the suit got in and two women got off. They had been talking to each other as they waited for the doors to open. They talked to each other as they crossed the platform and, for a few minutes, they could be heard talking to each other as they left the station. Chris and Jill continued to hug each other. They said nothing but just took in each other's presence. The train closed its doors and left.

After a while, another announcement came over the tannoy and Jill started to let go.

"That's our train." she said.

"Uh-uh." replied Chris, not letting her go.

"Let me go, Chris. We need to be ready."

"Uh-uh." Chris said again and held on just as tight as ever.

Jill tried to pull away but Chris held her fast. He was grinning, as was she, but behind the grin he was starting to get worried. Jill was stronger than he was expecting and it was all he could do to keep hold of her. What had started as a bit of fun was fast becoming a full-fledged battle. His wrists were starting to ache and he could feel his grip waning. Finally, he let go and Jill staggered a bit before quickly leaning forward and giving Chris a quick peck on the lips.

"I forgive you." she laughed.

Chris kept smiling and tried to ignore the tingling in his arms.

An old, slightly battered steam train pulled into the station. The last carriage stopped level with the end of the platform and the doors opened.

"That's our train." said Jill, "Let's go."

She took Nemesis by the arm and, with him still reading his comic, they boarded the carriage. Chris was left with the luggage.

"Hey!" he said but Jill couldn't hear him.

Or chose not to, thought Chris as he got a grip on the various cases. There were quite a few and most of them weren't his. Finally, he had them held more or less to his satisfaction and, muttering darkly, stepped onto the train.


	7. Chapter 7

Best Laid Plans III - The Goblet Of Truth

by Ticklefish

* * *

><p>"I can't see!"<p>

"The new virus is reacting with the old one. It is just temporary. You will have your sight back any minute now."

"I'd better. This isn't exactly what I'd agreed to."

"Don't worry, Mistress. Everything's under control. It's just another step in making you better."

"I want to be better. If this doesn't go exactly as I said, there'll be hell to pay."

"Yes, Mistress. Of course."


	8. Chapter 8

Best Laid Plans III - The Goblet Of Truth

by Ticklefish

* * *

><p>One hour later and the scenery hadn't changed much. Lots of Austrian countryside interspersed with the occasional town that flickered before the windows of the train before vanishing behind it. Nemesis had found it fascinating at first, but even his mind started to get bored and he was now fast asleep. He was snoring gently and Jill had adjusted his hat so that most of his face was hidden. The carriage was deserted but there was no point in taking chances.<p>

Chris and Jill were sitting in the seats across the aisle. Chris was staring out of the window, letting his mind wander while Jill read Nemesis's comic book in the opposite seat.

"You'd quite like this, you know." said Jill.

"Hmm?" replied Chris, not looking away from the window.

"Yes. It's full of OTT violence and people in fighter jets shooting stuff."

"Hmm. I was never much into that sort of thing when I was in the Air Force. I was always just about the flying."

"Really?" asked Jill closing the comic and putting it away in a bag, "Then why not become a commercial pilot? It would have been much safer."

Chris shrugged.

"The Air Force had jets."

"That's it? It wasn't that you wanted to protect people or serve your country or anything like that?"

"Oh, partially. But I was young. I liked jets. Jets were fast and exciting. I was quite a simple kid, really."

Jill laughed.

"Oh, I don't think I could ever call you simple, Chris."

There was a creaking noise Chris couldn't quite identify. He turned and saw Jill getting up from her seat. The noise had been caused by the elderly springs. The train was old and not in the best of conditions.

Jill stretched her back.

"That's it," she said, "that's just too uncomfortable. Scoot over, I'm sitting next to you."

Chris made room for her and she sat down next to him. Then she shuffled closer to him and wriggled until she was stretched out, with her head on Chris's shoulder and her legs dangling over the side of the seat.

"Comfy are you?" quipped Chris, realizing that he had been transformed into a cushion."

"Mmm, definitely. I could stay just like this forever."

"You'd better not fall asleep on me. I don't think I could cope with both of you snoring."

"Oi!" said Jill, slapping him playfully on the leg, "You know perfectly well I don't snore!"

"'Course you don't. We must have had a small earthquake last night, maybe that's what I'm thinking of."

Jill blew a raspberry.

"You'd better watch your attitude, young man. You should feel privileged to even be in the same bed as me."

"Jill, I could have been in a bed across the road and I still would have heard you." said Chris with a grin.

"Well, next time you can sleep on the floor. I don't think you deserve to sleep with me."

"Oh, such a shame..."

"In fact, I don't think you should even have sex with me. Maybe I make too much noise then as well."

Chris frowned.

"You make all the right noises." he said, wondering whether he had gone too far. Her voice had sounded very serious.

"Nope, it's too late now." said Jill.

She reached across and stroked Chris's crotch with the back of her fingernails.

"This thing shouldn't come anywhere near me again."

Chris panicked and looked about him to check they were alone in the carriage. There was no-one he could spot and he couldn't hear anyone. Nemesis was still asleep and, judging from the depth of his snores, would be for some time yet. Despite himself, he could feel his body reacting to Jill's feather-light touch. A bulge started to grow in his groin and now that Jill knew precisely where he was, she focused her stroking on that area.

He swallowed and said "That would be a shame. You two look so right together."

Jill continued her stroking but increased her pressure. The shape of Chris's pants was becoming unmistakable.

"No, I don't think so. It's a bit on the ugly side, all thick and long and everything. Not at all something that a lady like me should have anything to do with."

"Oh, it's not so bad."

Chris wanted to have said something cleverer but the sound of his pumping heart was making it difficult to concentrate. He was nervous about what Jill was doing but at the same time she seemed to know exactly how to touch him and he didn't mind one little bit.

"You reckon? Well, let us have a look."

Before Chris could react, Jill grabbed his fly, pulled it down and took out his manhood. The cooler air and the touch of Jill's fingers against the taut skin had their effect. There was no doubt at all that Chris had a very large, strong, hard erection.

"Christ!" spat Chris, "What are you doing?"

Jill slowly ran the tip of one fingernail along the underside of his penis, making him tense slightly as she went over the sensitive skin of his glans.

"Oh relax," she whispered in his ear, "you said this was worth looking at and now you have to prove it. Don't worry, there's no-one else to see. I'm not someone who likes to share."

"I never said i.." Chris started but got no further.

Jill had grasped him in her hand and was slowly very moving her hand up and down. Her grip was just firm enough to make Chris struggle to concentrate.

"Well, it looks okay," she murmured, "and I know it feels okay when it's inside me. Do you think it feels okay when it's inside me? When I surround it. Warm, wet..tight.."

"Uh-huh." replied Chris, that being about all he could say.

Shortly afterwards, he wasn't even able to say that. Jill had formed a ring with her thumb and forefinger, pulled his foreskin and grasped him at the base. She paused for a heartbeat then took him in her mouth. It was all Chris could do to breathe.

Before long, Chris could feel himself getting closer to losing control. He was completely lost in pleasure and no longer really cared if anybody saw them or not. All he could think about was the feelings Jill was causing in him. Her lips, her tongue, even her teeth were all conspiring to drive him to the very edge of ecstasy.

The train started to slow. A small alarm bell rang in Chris's mind, lost though it was in sheer rapture. This was the sort of braking that the train did before stopping at a station. A station with people in it. People who might come in..

"Jill," he uttered through clenched teeth, "we're coming to a station."

He was hoping that Jill would finish him off and give him the release he craved, but instead she raised her head from his lap. He was wet with her saliva and her hand resumed its painfully slow caress up and down his shaft. She reached into her bag and pulled out her coat. Realizing what she had in mind, Chris quickly helped her spread across them until it perfectly hid what was underneath. Jill gave him a playful squeeze and, as the train slowed to a halt, treated him to a long and sensuous kiss.

Her lips were full and her tongue wrestled with his. Combined with her ever-moving hand, Chris barely registered what was happening around him.

The train shuddered and went back on its way. Jill broke away from the kiss and gazed into his eyes. Her eyes were a deep, sparkling blue, her pupils were wide and she had a cheeky smile on her face. She turned her head to the right and said "'Tag." Chris looked and in the opposite seat were sat a couple in their mid to late sixties. He started with surprise and very nearly lost control underneath the coat, only stopping himself from exploding with extreme effort.

"English?" the lady sitting opposite said with a faint Irish accent.

"No, American." replied Jill with a sweet smile.

Her right hand, which had briefly paused, resumed its slow rhythm and Chris swallowed. Jill knew him well enough and could tell how close he was to climax. She was stroking at just the right speed to keep him on the edge without tipping him over and there was nothing he could do to stop her without drawing attention to what she was doing.

"Here on holiday? Ooh, or do I mean vacation?" the man asked.

"Sort of. It was a business trip but we decided to take the long way home. Didn't we, hon?" Jill replied, giving Chris a slight squeeze.

"Uh-huh." said Chris, not trusting himself to say anything more.

"After all, this is such a beautiful country, it would be a crime to miss it. Wouldn't it, hon?"

"Uh-huh."

Jill and the couple opposite continued to chat, Jill weaving a story about them being property developers on the way back from a conference. She seemed to know a lot about the business but Chris knew so little that she could have been completely making it up for all he knew.

Nemesis was still fast asleep and it seemed as though the couple had decided to deal with his large, imposing figure by ignoring it completely. They started to talk about what they were doing in Austria but, as much as Chris tried to look nonchalantly interested, his attention was elsewhere.

Before long, Jill sped up and Chris tried desperately not to look anything was going on.

Thankfully, Jill was doing all the talking and was effortlessly charming and witty. She was midway through a tale of a client who kept changing their mind of the style of cladding when Chris felt himself reach the point of no return.

He held his breath, bit his lip and held on hard to the arm of the chair as Jill's ministrations did their trick and he felt himself pump jet after jet under the cover of the coat.

For a moment, he lost all sense of time and couldn't see or hear anything than bright spots exploding in front of his eyes.

He collapsed back into the chair and felt like the world had moved on and left him behind. The couple opposite him appeared not to have noticed a thing but if they had, Chris was too drained to have done a thing.

After a few minutes, the train stopped at another station and the couple made their farewells and left the carriage. No-one else got on and the train continued its journey.

Jill let go of Chris and removed her hand from the coat. She looked him in the eye and licked her fingers.

"Well. Weren't they a nice couple?" she said with a grin.


	9. Chapter 9

Best Laid Plans III - The Goblet Of Truth

by Ticklefish

* * *

><p>RAT-TATTA-TAT..<p>

RAT-TATTA-TAT..

RAT-TATTA-TATTA..

Leon was bored. It had been quite a few minutes since Claire had stepped out of the car and walked into a house a few metres down the street and, until he heard from her, Leon had nothing to do.

RAT-TATTA-TAT..

RAT-TAT-TATTA..

With the backs of his fingers, he drummed idly on the window glass. His gaze idly resting on a trashcan on the lawn he was parked in front of.

RAT-RAT-TAT-TAT..

TAT-TAT-RAT-RAT..

Consider Leon for a moment. When he was younger, he had dreams of joining the police force. Dreams of protecting and serving. Dreams of making a difference. Wearing the badge with pride and making the world a better, more peaceful, more law-abiding place. A life spent working his way up the ranks, maybe even becoming Commisioner. Then retirement. Grandkids, a house in the country, a loving wife.

RAT-TATTA-TAT..

RAT-TATTA-TAT..

RAT-TATTA-TATTA..

Of course, it didn't quite happen that way. He was assigned to Racoon City and, on the day he started work, became the only police officer left alive in the whole city. Before the day was over, he had fought hideous mutants and creatures of all shapes and sizes. And sometimes he only survived by the very skin of his teeth.

TAT-TAT-TATTA-TAT..

TAT-TAT-TATTA-TAT..

He was given a job with the government. This was a new type of bio-warfare and anybody who had any sort of experience, and who wasn't already dead, was valuable. He started the week as a rookie and, by the end, he was a special agent.

RAT-RAT-RAT-RAT...

TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT...

That was a long time ago now. In the years since then, Leon had received all sorts of special training and was as far beyond that naive boy who first drove to Racoon as it was possible to be. But there was a down-side.

TATTA-TATTA-RAT-TAT...

RAT-RAT-TATTA-TAT...

Leon had never spent time on stakeouts. He had never spent hours on end sitting in an uncomfortable vehicle, waiting for something to happen, if it ever did. He had never been forced to wait for something, or at least not for very long.

In short, Leon had never learnt patience.

He was bored. Bored to tears. It had been ten minutes since Claire had gone. It felt like thirty.

RAT-TATTA-TAT..

His fingers stopped mid-drum. There was something he could do to pass the time. As a government agent, Leon had access to reports from the country's various law-enforcement agencies. They were tedious to wade through, being filled with complicated jargon and obscure acronyms. The latest pile was in a boxfile in the back of his car. He didn't really relish going through them. But it was either that or have his brain shut down in despair.

"'Above Highly Top Secret'. Huh." muttered Leon, flicking through the papers on the top of the pile.

It seemed as though every branch of the government was determined to outdo each other with just how secretive they were. For every group that declared their details were classified 'Clearance A' only, there was another who'd invent a 'Clearance A+'. Not for the first time, Leon wondered just how the country actually managed to do anything. If the nation's rulers were back in school, they'd spend their entire time trying to urinate higher up the wall than everyone else.

This was all supposed to have changed. The country's latest President had swept into office on a tide of promises to change it all. She had sworn to streamline the bureaucracy and make the whole system more efficient. Leon spoke to the President almost weekly and she never showed signs of any strain but he could tell she was struggling to stay on top of the red tape.

His gaze flicked to the dashboard clock. It had only been one minute since he had read the confidentiality warnings on the first page. For all his contemplation on the state of the nation, he hadn't managed to occupy any more of his time. There was nothing for it.

He was going to have to read the wretched things.

The report on the top of the pile concerned an investigation into administration irregularities in the procurement department of the CIA. Or at least, that's what the first few sentences talked about. After that, Leon's eyes started to glazed over.

He flicked forward a few pages, picked a sentence at random and read it out loud.

"'Suspected improper allocation of intra-departmental stationery.'"

Leon shook his head in disbelief and tossed the report over his shoulder, into the back of the car.

A few seconds later, the second report followed it and then the third. The American tax-payer may have been interested in how much the secret service was spending on staplers, but Leon really couldn't care less.

He grabbed the next report in the pile and was about to hurl it in the back with the rest when something caught his eye. On the front of the report was the logo of the Bio-terroism Security Assessment Alliance. He was familiar with the logo but he'd never worked with the group and there was no obvious reason why he would be sent anything from them. He turned the report the right way up and re-read the title.

"'Redfield'?" he wondered aloud.

He started reading the report and, as he did, a frown on his face grew bigger and bigger. The report was just a few pages thick and it didn't take him very long to finish it. The report went back in the file and the file was placed on the passenger seat but Leon's frown stayed in place.

Leon had met Claire's older brother, Chris Redfield, a few times in the past. They knew each other but they weren't exactly the best of friends. And he had never met Jill Valentine, although he knew her reputation well. She and Redfield had been members of an elite unit in Raccoon City and had later helped to form the BSAA after a great many successes fighting biowarfare. Leon had always had respect for them. He had always felt that they fought for what was right, no matter what it may have cost them.

It looked like he had been wrong.

Redfield and Valentine were wanted by the BSAA, with the organisation's highest rating, for fraud and embezzlement. The two of them had tried to steal millions of dollars and had almost gotten away with it. If they had succeeded, the BSAA would have been bankrupted, or at least in dire financial trouble.

Leon was astonished. It would explain why they had been so determined when they were getting the organisation off the ground. There had been a lot of opposition from various goverment bodies who felt the BSAA would be stepping on their toes, but the pair had been persistent and eventually succeeded. All so they could later rob it. It was disgusting.

A thought stole up on him. Ever since Leon had spoken to Claire over the phone in Africa, she had seemed distracted. She was usually a fairly cheerful person but she just seemed snappy and distracted. It wasn't outside the realms of possiblity that she knew about her brother's activities and was worried about him.

A chill ran up his spine. It was also possible that she didn't just know about what Redfield was doing, she might have been involved in it herself. She said she'd been having a bad time and it was obvious that something was preying on her mind. Maybe she was in on the whole thing. It would explain why she joined the BSAA and why she ended up partnered with Jill, despite the woman being in Africa at the time on secondment. Claire must have joined just to help her brother rob the place.

It all made sense. And yet Leon couldn't prove it. At least, not yet. He would have to keep an eye on her. Sooner or later, she would slip up and he would have her.

It sickened him that somebody could abuse their position and their responsiblities like that. It was a shame, Claire was a nice person and Leon quite liked her but if she was involved, he wouldn't be happy until she was behind bars where she belonged.

"Leon! Leon!" cried the boxfile from where it sat on the car's passenger seat. He started at it in incomprehension, mentally preparing himself to reach for his gun.

"Yes..?" he asked slowly.

"Leon? Are you there? For God's sake, answer!"

It was Claire's voice and Leon realised, feeling not a little foolish, that it was coming from the walkie-talkie on the seat. He had absent-mindely placed the file right on top of it. He reached for the device and pressed the button on the side.

"Yes?" he repeated.

"There's a shooter here! Sven's dead and I'm pinned down! Help!"

Leon moved.

His reflexes were finely honed and, without needing to think about it, he was out of the car running down the road. His gun was in one hand and the radio was in the other.

"Where are they?" he barked into the mouthpiece.

"Round the back," Claire's panicked voice replied, "I think there's only one and I think they've got a rifle. They've got to be a pro from the way they're shooting."

"Where are you?" Leon asked, changing his route and aiming for the back of the row of houses he was approaching.

"I'm safe, but I can't move. They've got me trapped and I think they're waiting me out. Hurry!"

Leon's lips tightened.

"On my way." he said.

The houses in this neighborhood were arranged in neat, orderly rows on the side of the road. The road curved gently across its whole length so that one end was almost at ninety degrees to the other. On the outside of the curve, the buildings were backed by a small, narrow path, originally intended for use by those needing access to the sewage system. Now it was unused and almost forgotten about with two large, imposing metal gates at other end. The gates were supposed to be locked, but the one nearest Leon hung open, a broken padlock swinging lazily from the lock.

Without breaking his pace, Leon crashed through it and barreled down the path. Leon's plan was to rush the shooter, not giving him any time to react. With luck, he would be too occupied with his target to notice the agent before it was too late.

As he ran, Leon scanned the area around and in front of him. The assasin would most certainly be in camouflage. This was an area where people kept to themselves but they were bound to notice somebody dressed in bright colours waving a rifle around. The last thing Leon wanted to do was run straight past him.

He got closer to the back of the house owned by Claire's late friend, Sven and spotted a figure by the hedge. The figure was dressed in bright colours and was waving a rifle around. Waving it at him.

Leon was so surprised, he misjudged his footing and fell flat on his face in a pile of mouldy leaves. As he fell, he felt the hair on the side of his head move in a sudden breeze and realised his mistake had saved his life.

Rather than take a second shot, the gunman clearly decided not to tempt fate. He dropped the rifle, turned on their heel and ran away from the figure sprawled on the floor. Leon pushed himself back up and charged after him.

The shooter was fast. Leon was giving it his all but wasn't gaining on him.

On her, in fact.

The person who had killed Sven and had almost killed Claire and Leon was quite clearly a woman. They were wearing some sort of leather outfit in a mix of red and white. It was very close-fitting and the shooter's shape from behind was definitely that of a woman. Probably in her late twenties or early thirties with medium-length blonde hair that bounced as she ran.

All this ran through Leon's mind automatically as he chased her, a product of his police training. Another thought that was in his mind was the fact that his hands were empty. When he had fallen, he had apparently dropped his radio..and his gun. He cursed himself for being so unusually careless. When he caught up to the woman, he wasn't at all sure what he would do.

He didn't get the chance to find out. The woman reached the end of the access path and burst through the gate. A split-second later, there was a roar and Leon was just in time to see her disappear off into the distance on the back of a motorcycle. She reached the end of the road, turned left and was gone.

Leon stared after her for a few seconds and then, shaking his head in annoyance, turned and headed back to retrieve his things. It had all happened so fast but there was no way he could have messed it up so badly. Tripping up like an amateur was one thing, but to leave his weapon? Even a rookie wouldn't do something so stupid.

Then there was the fact he couldn't catch her. Leon was very proud of his phyisque and to be outrun by a girl just annoyed him. He knew it shouldn't, but it did and that's all there was to it.

Plus there was something slightly familiar about her. There was nothing he could pin it down to but, for some reason, the woman reminded him strangely of Claire..

He had reached the back of Sven's house by this point and his thoughts took a different course. Lying in a muddy puddle was his gun and the radio which looked distinctly broken. But near it lay the assasin's rifle. In all the fuss Leon had forgotten. The woman had been so keen to get away, she had left her weapon behind.

Which cheered Leon up immensely.


	10. Chapter 10

Best Laid Plans III - The Goblet Of Truth

by Ticklefish

* * *

><p>nemesis may be awake<p>

nemesis may be asleep

nemesis not sure

rocking back rocking forward rocking back

could be asleep

people talking

could be awake

nemesis try opening eye

nemesis awake yes

lady and big man talking

lady and big man sitting close to each other looking at each other holding hands

lady smiles

big man laughs

lady and big man look happy

nemesis glad

lady and big man have not looked happy for very long time

nemesis warm comfortable

nemesis go back to sleep

nemesis like sleep like dream

in dream nemesis is pirate sailing seas

nemesis like being pirate

pirates say arr

arr sound like something nemesis like to say

nemesis

nemesis

ne..me..sissss...


	11. Chapter 11

Best Laid Plans III - The Goblet Of Truth

by Ticklefish

* * *

><p>"He's snoring again."<p>

"Not as badly as you."

"Don't start that again."

Chris smiled to himself and shifted into a new position. It had been a long journey and Jill had been cuddled up to him for pretty much all of it. He didn't mind, didn't mind in the slightest bit, but the seats in the train weren't the most comfortable in the world.

As if reading his mind, Jill lithely slid off his legs and came to a standing position in the carriage. She placed her palms in the small of her back and stretched her body upwards, standing on tip-toes for a second. As she did so, Chris noted how her bosom moved perfectly with the rest of her body and marvelled. She truly was amazing.

Jill then pushed her hands out in front of her, stretching her arms and fingers. She caught sight of the watch on her wrist and started with surprise.

"Woah, it's later than we thought. We're only about forty-five minutes away. Although you still haven't told me exactly where we're going."

Chris nodded and looked serious.

"That's because I wasn't sure you'd like it." he said.

Jill cocked her head quizzically.

"We're going to see an old friend of mine," Chris continued, "I knew him in the Air Force before he got kicked out. He..er..owes me a few favors."

"Why, exactly?"

"It's complicated. But the important thing is, he's set up shop on the Czech border as a private pilot. He can sneak us out of the country without any problems."

"And you trust him?"

"Oh, absolutely."

"Really?"

Chris looked uncomfortable.

"Well..more or less. He can be a bit odd at times but..no, I trust him."

Jill perched on the edge of the seat opposite him and scratched the back of her neck.

"I don't see why you'd think I wouldn't like that. Unless..there's something you're not telling me.."

Chris stayed silent.

"Where precisely is he going to be taking us to, Chris?"

"Back to the States, of course" Chris said, a blank look on his face.

Jill leant back in the chair and cast her eyes at the ceiling.

"That's insane," she said after a while, "Border Control is far too tight. They'll have us before we even set foot on the ground. And then the BSAA will have us and we'll be screwed."

"Not if we're careful. Roger knows what he's doing."

"Roger? You're entrusting us to a pilot called Roger? Chris, tell me this is a bad joke.."

"It's not a joke, Jill." he replied, trying to sound more confident than he felt. "Roger has a lot of experience getting things from one place to the other without getting a lot of attention."

Jill looked at him with a frown.

"'Things'?" she pronounced the word carefully. "What kind of..'things', exactly?"

"Y'know, this and that. Things that need moving."

Her eyes narrowed.

"Chris, what kind of things?"

Chris looked uncomfortable.

"Oh, just things. Letters, packages..people..that sort of thing."

"Drugs? Guns?" Jill pressed.

"Well.."

"He's not a 'private pilot' at all, is he? Your friend is an actual, freaking smuggler. Isn't he?"

"I can't believe you. We're in enough trouble as it is and you want us to start hanging around with a criminal!"

"He's not a criminal."

"Oh no? What else do you want to call a gunrunner? C'mon, Chris! We've fought people like that! How can you expect us to now work with one? Jesus.."

Chris felt his temper rising. He couldn't see what Jill's problem was.

"He's not a gunrunner either, Jill. He actually is a private pilot."

"Don't be naive, Chris. Do you not even remember our time in Racoon? We took down smugglers all the time. They're criminals, pure and simple."

"I'm not naive."

"No? Well then, think of something else that isn't so stupid."

"What else can we do? We don't have much money, you're the only one who even speaks German and we've got that thing to deal with," he pointed at the slumbering form on the other side of the carriage, "we have to go back and get this whole thing sorted out."

"Just how the hell do you think we can get it sorted out? We helped found that damn organisation and they've turned on us in a flash. The instant they see us, they'll slam us in jail."

"But we didn't do anything." Chris tried.

"Do you honestly think that matters to them? They certainly believed we stole the money easily enough. Hell, maybe we should have done."

Chris frowned.

"You don't mean that."

"No? Why not? It'd certainly make things easier. And they deserve it. They'd fire us anyway if they found out about us."

"I.." he started but Jill kept going.

"Huh, they wouldn't fire you. They like you, you're a 'hero'. But they'd be more than happy to get rid of me."

"That's not true."

"You think? You don't see how they looked at me when I came back. Oh sure, they said they were glad to see me, they said they were glad I wasn't dead, that I was 'better'," she spat the word, "but you could see it in their eyes. They were all scared of me, of what I'd done. They allthought I was a freak!"

With that, she slammed the side of her fist into the side of the carriage, rattling the window. Chris was a little stunned. Jill had never told him about any of this, she had always seemed a bit tense since she had been rescued but he had no idea she had felt this way.

"You're not a freak, darling." he said softly.

"That's why they partnered me off with your sister as soon as they possibly could. They were worried if I spent any time with you and that tart of yours, I'd go back to my old ways and start killing people again."

Chris quite liked Sheva, she'd always been very dedicated although she'd gone downhill recently, but he let the 'tart' comment go. There was no point mentioning it now, Jill seemed angry enough.  
>"I'm sure that's not true."<p>

"Yeah, right.."

They were silent for a while. Chris had no idea what to say, he didn't want to make things worse but didn't know how to make things better.

Eventually Jill made an exasperated noise and shifted in her chair until she was against the window, staring out at the scenery. Her breath fogged the glass.

"You know what, let's use the stupid smuggler. Why not, let's just abandon our morals completely. Whatever."

"Jill.." Chris began and reached out to touch her.

She moved away from his hand.

"Don't, Chris. Just don't."

They spent the rest of the journey in silence, broken only by the snoring from the figure on the other side.

Chris spent his time feeling annoyed and trying to think what to do or what to say. Neither noticed the hand-sized dent in the metal underneath the window frame.


End file.
